She led him to the stable, where the old horse Jeff stood waiting to take his part in the important work.

“Let’s hitch up and drive over to Blenden.  We can make it before dark, and I want to be the first to tell Mrs. Harriwell.  I could never trust to a message.”

With a word to Mrs. Markin, the major agreed.  It was not so long a journey when the straight road was taken—­it was the turns and twists that led every one astray.  But Major Dale knew the road, and he and Dorothy went merrily on, with words of love and tenderness that only such a father and daughter know how to exchange.

Dorothy learned that the boys, Roger and Joe, had not heard a word of her trouble, and she at once determined not to tell even her father all that she had suffered.  She had to explain, of course, about being in the sanitarium, but about the Hobbs imprisonment, she decided to say nothing.

Reaching the sanitarium, Dorothy shuddered as she asked the guards at the gate if she might see the superintendent, but when the man doffed his cap to the distinguished looking major, Dorothy again gained her composure.

Mrs. Harriwell sat in the hall, and was evidently much distressed.

Dorothy stepped up to her, and the woman started.

“Molly!” she gasped.  Then she saw her mistake.

“But we have come to take you to Molly,” said Dorothy, “and I want to be the first to tell you the good news!  Molly is better!”

“Better!” repeated the woman vaguely, the deep lines of trouble shadowing her pale face.

“Yes, she wants to see you—­she knows all about everything——­”

“Your daughter, madam,” said Major Dale, “has recovered her reason.”

“Impossible!” gasped the poor mother.

“Not at all,” declared the major.  “But come along, and you will see for yourself.”

An attendant had stepped up, and was looking curiously at Dorothy.  She took her father’s hand.

“Any word?” asked the nurse.

“Not for you,” replied Mrs. Harriwell with dignity, “I find there are better places than sanitariums for—­nervous girls.  Come along, sir.  Thank you,” as she took the major’s arm, and left the place.

How that mother listened to Dorothy’s words!  That her daughter had talked as Dorothy said, that she was at a nearby camp——­ Oh, it was good news indeed!

“And she is going to stay with us,” Dorothy warned her.  “We will not let her go to any more hospitals.”

“Never!” exclaimed the mother firmly.  “Molly may stay any place she chooses.  She is all I have, and I so nearly lost her!”

It was a beautiful evening.  The sun had just set.  Over the hills could be seen tents, their flags flying and their happy young and old owners could be heard singing, calling, and shouting; could be seen building fires, and doing all the thousand and one absurd things that humanity insists upon doing every time it gets the chance.